Getting Caught
by jazziisms
Summary: As he holds her close to him, stroking her arm with his knuckles until her trembling stops and her breathing evens out, he muses how much better this is. He feels as if he can protect her now. He's no perfect soldier like Mikasa, he's no shifter like Eren, he's no genius like Armin, and he's no leader like Jean. He's honestly surprised he's survived this long. Springles. Oneshot.


Pairing: Connie/Sasha

Verse: Canon

A/N: *sweats* M'kay, so I know this is a day late but I was a little busy yesterday and by the time it was nine, I was out like a light. Anyways, happy Springles Week! I don't write for them enough, so I really hope I do them justice.

And, ah, in case you missed the rating...Connie wakes Sasha up from a nightmare, which leads to comfort, which leads to... _ya nasty_.

* * *

"Sash...Sash!" Familiar hands grasp her arms in earnest, shaking her gently. "You're having a nightmare! Wake up!"

Sasha's eyes shoot open and she gasps for breath. Another gasp when she realizes the person that's holding her isn't a titan, but the one person she trusts with her life more than anyone. Connie, clad in his pj's with his hair sticking in every direction, hovers over her almost protectively, his concerned hazel eyes staring down into the frightened chocolate pools of hers. Her body relaxes immediately, and her fingers dig into his forearms.

"Connie...how'd you get in here?" Sasha's gaze flicker over to the opposite side of the room: Mikasa's bed. To no one's surprise, the raven is nowhere to be found at this hour. "What are you doing up?" She rubs the sleep out of her eyes.

His gaze flickers from left to right, and he hesitates before he treads carefully, "I was walking by your door when I heard you whimpering or something. It...It was unlocked, so, I checked it out." Their gazes lock, and she blinks and her throat feels tight. Vision blurring from unshed tears. He lifts a hand from her arm, still kneeling over her, and brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You okay?"

Sasha nods and flashes him a bright smile, but it doesn't meet her eyes.

He sees right through her.

"Wanna talk about it or…?" Don'tsounddesperate, don'tsounddesperate, don'tsounddesperate. "Do ya want me to stay here? Until you fall asleep?" Aaaand you failed step one.

But Sasha doesn't seem to think so. In fact, she reaches up to drape her arms around his neck and pull him down. Pull him closer. "Can we cuddle?"

Of course he isn't gonna say _no_.

He plops down next to her, and she crawls into his warm embrace, burying her face into his chest. He cups the back of her head and kisses her hair. Jeez, since when did Sasha seem so _small_? Cuddling isn't anything new for them, in fact that started _waaaay_ before they became a thing. He was the small spoon though. Always, always, always. And, to be honest, he used to think he was gonna stay that short all his life. (Not that he had any problem with that. He can give you a _whole list_ of why being short is better than being tall! Have you _seen_ Captain Levi? Being short doesn't stop him from doing anything!) But then his seventeenth birthday rolled around and, well, he hasn't exactly been the same since. Sasha found a newfound love for his hair (yeah, him! hair! _shocker_ , right?), and he exceeds her in height by ten centimeters.

As he holds her close to him, stroking her arm with his knuckles until her trembling stops and her breathing evens out, he muses how much better this is. He feels as if he can protect her now. He's no perfect soldier like Mikasa, he's no shifter like Eren, he's no genius like Armin, and he's no leader like Jean. He's honestly surprised he's survived this long. His best friend turned girlfriend is an archeress (which is _so_ badass and sexy like _holy spring_ -), _and_ she defeated a titan with no 3DMG. Historia is a fucking queen, like _literally_. But what about him? What is Connie's purpose in this whole thing? His mom somehow got turned into a _titan_. There's no sign of the rest of his family either... _Could be dead. Could be eaten. Or both._

Sasha doesn't hesitate to tell him how important he is. To her, to their friends. Sometimes he doesn't believe her, sometimes he does. She knows him better than anyone, always have, always will, and their connection has been there from the start. Back then, he didn't expect to fall in love with her. But fate has a funny way of doing things, doesn't it?

Connie may not be the best at fighting.

Or using his gear.

Or deciphering when and when not to laugh during the most inappropriate of times.

But _goddammit_ , _he will die_ for the people he loves. No question.

"Feeling better?"

Sasha nods slowly in response against his chest. "You're warm," she adds, rubbing his pectoral. "Muscleee," the archeress sings drowsily with a sleepy grin.

Connie laughs. "Alright, I think it's time for you to go to sleep."

"No!" _Clings_.

"No?" He peers down at her. Sees how wide her eyes are again, almost bloodshot, and her fingers bunch up his shirt as she curls them into a fist.

"If you leave..." She wets her lips. "If you leave, then...then you'll be _eaten_."

Connie has a good idea of what her nightmare consisted of now, but he attempts to lighten the mood with a little snort, holding his hands up in innocence. "I'm down for eating but Sash, your kinks are gettin' a little out of control, don't cha think?"

It works and she laughs, and he _swears_ it's the most beautiful sound (do not quote on him. _do not_ -).

But then she scoots up until they're nose-to-nose, and her hands cup either side of his neck. Expression serious. "I love you."

"I love you too." He breathes, rubbing his nose against hers, _and there goes that giggle again_.

Sasha closes the small space between them to kiss him, and he inhales deeply. She's soft and vulnerable and melting under his fingertips. He's careful with her, like she's as fragile as a porcelain doll, like she's the thinnest of glass, prone to break at any moment. He doesn't know how long her content will last with him until she crumbles again, unsure of her motives here.

But it's clear as day when her hand travels south and cups him through his pants. He groans, instinctively thrusting into her hand.

"Here?" he whispers in a pant, biting his lip when she increases speed and pressure. _Not helping, Sasha, you are not -_

"Here," she echoes him and nods. It finally dawns down on him. She not only wants him, but she _needs_ him. She needs a _distraction_. And only _he_ can give it to her.

With that motive, Connie rolls back on top of her.

He's going to chase her nightmares away.

* * *

Sasha gasps and bucks into his touch. He's right where she wants him to be, but at the same time he's not where she _really_ wants him to be; long gone are her shorts and her panties are hanging loosely around her left ankle. The strap of her shirt is pulled down so he has more access to her skin, and his mouth is over her nipple, lapping and sucking at the surface. He's slowly stroking her heat with one hand, while his other hand is used to balance himself on his side. Taking his time with her. _Teasing_ her. He's already left his mark on her, leaving hickies all over her chest and thighs (never her neck, though. at least, not in places she can't hide.), and he's _pretty_ sure his shirt was gone in the first sixty seconds. He plays with her clit while sucking on her nipple, slowly working her up before he moves on to the other, and she's trying to be quiet (key word: she's _trying_ , but that doesn't mean she's actually _succeeding_ ).

And then he slowly dips in a finger.

And _then_ her back arches off the bed _and holy shit_. She's like a _wave_ with her movements, first her back, then her hips and thighs, before she settles back down on the bed and continues to buck into his hand. _God_ , she is so beautiful. He remembers how awkward they both were the first time, and how she had to teach him about her body and what she liked. Once he got the hang of it? Hooo man. He _did not_ last long.

Which is kind of embarrassing, now that he thinks about it, but he's more focused on Sasha and _the raging boner in his pants_.

Her breath hitches when he inserts a second finger, but he's careful and gentle...before he has her whimpering and moaning and _desperately_ begging for her release and he has to kiss her to shush her and _the sound she makes when he does that_. _Fuck_.

He doesn't want her to come, though.

Not yet.

He wants her to come when he's inside her. He wants her to come when their bodies become one. He wants her to come with him not far behind. He wants her to come when she's gasping and moaning and smiling up at him while he ruts into her, while he tells her that he loves her, that he'll never leave her, that she has nothing to worry about, that he's still here and she's still here and they're still here _together_. They _will_ survive. They _will_ see this war end. He'll make _sure_ of it.

He stops pleasuring her to rid himself of his pants, and she's already waiting for him with her arms outstretched. He closes in, kisses her as he climbs back on top of her, and with one swift thrust _he's home_.

Sasha kisses his shoulders, clinging to him, meeting him thrust after _sweet thrust_. She forgets about the nightmares, she forgets about the hurt, she forgets about the pain, she forgets about the depression and all the haunting thoughts, and just focuses on _him_. The way _he_ _feels_. The way he makes _her_ feel. He's in one place yet he's everywhere at once, his hands are everywhere at once; her face, stroking her cheekbones, down her arms, squeezing her breasts, marveling her legs and thighs. They start off slow, but only increase in tempo as Sasha's pleas and purrs of _More. Faster._ spur him on.

 _"Close..."_ she whispers and he looks down at her with that lopsided grin of his; his hand flies down to her clit and he rubs vigorously until she can _actually hear_ the squishy movement over the smacking sound of their bodies meeting over and over and _over_ again. _"A-Almost..."_ her voice squeaks octaves higher, mouth falling agape. _"Oh...I'm...almost...! Just a little more...!"_

 _Yesyesyesyesyes - !_

The door swings open.

 _RECORD SCRATCH._

"Sasha?"

They both freeze.

"M-Mikasa?" Sasha wheezes, risking a peek over Connie's shoulder. Her roommate stood there with that unreadable mask of hers, and the only indication of displeasure is the slow arch of the raven's eyebrow. Connie ducks his face, hiding it in her shoulder, and she can feel the burning heat radiating off of his cheeks from embarrassment.

There's a long beat of silence between the three. Sasha counts to ten. Twenty. Thirty.

Then Mikasa finally speaks.

"Just...keep it down." She doesn't meet their gazes as she crosses the room to bundle up her blanket in her arm, and she _obviously_ doesn't risk it again as she makes her way for the door. Her hand is on the doorknob when she adds, "I'm sure you don't want it to be Captain Levi next time."

Sasha and Connie's gulps were simultaneous and they remain still as Mikasa shuts the door.

Ten seconds of awkward silence lay between them before Sasha speaks up first.

"Was I really...?"

"Yep." His lips popped on the 'p'.

"And she just...?"

"Yep."

"Should we...?"

"Grab a snack or pick up where we left off?"

Sasha grins, snaking her fingers through Connie's hair, and her response is definite.

 _"Yes."_


End file.
